A Brighter Day
by Razzledazzy
Summary: Gakuen!AU. Alfred is struggling with his feelings for the son of the UK ambassador when his life comes crashing down around him. Includes: Blindness, violence, minor character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred sighed looking out the window; he was doing it again, trying to distract himself from looking over at the boy in the sweater vest across the row from him, that annoying, goddamn attractive older boy with the green eyes that shined whenever the he spoke. That boy would be the death of him.

Alfred was jerked back into the dim classroom when the boy spoke to him again, "Alfred is there something wrong?"

"Nothing," the American sighed back. It was a lie of course, everything was wrong. He shouldn't be having these feelings for another guy, especially not Arthur Kirkland, the boy who had been his best friend since 3rd grade. When they had met when Arthur and his parents had moved over from England how could Alfred ever had known that something like this would have happened? What happened to the knobby-kneed little boy of the ambassador with the funny accent? The one that tried to convince him to make really pies, not those silly mud atrocities? Back when they first became friends, when Alfred's family was beginning to become heavily involved in politics, that was when they started being inseparable, much to the chagrin of both sets of parents during the disruption of important meetings. Now look at them all, his father was currently running for presidential candidate for his party, his mother's work was well respected by several human rights NGOs, and then there was Alfred who had only been successful in falling for his best friend.

He chanced another look over, just to be met with the concerned green eyes.

God dammit.

Alfred shrugged at his friend and stubbornly stared at the smart board, willing the clock in the bottom corner of the screen to tell him he was released from his personal torment.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, little white numbers changing sluggishly until the bell rang and Alfred bolted out of the room like it was on fire.

He didn't stop running until he got to his locker, finally able to breathe again. Alfred dropped his head against the cold metal. Why did this have to happen to him of all people? Why did it have to be Arthur? The American banged his head against his locker door repeatedly, until a pressure on his shoulder held him back. Feeling a shock from the sudden contact he whirled around to face the very thing that was the source of his angst. Arthur looked cross at his actions, but all the American could focus on was the hand that was warmly gripping his shoulder.

"What the bloody _hell_ are you doing!" Arthur hissed.

Opening his mouth in an attempt to answer, Alfred shut it again. Arthur would just see through whatever he said and press the issue when Alfred refused to share what was bothering him. Only thing he could do was hope his face was not as red as it felt.

"I told you it's nothing okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Alfred said shrugging out of friend's hold. Walking away from his locker in what he refused to acknowledged was a cowardly way out, he paused to look back at the blonde who was standing by his still open locker.

Closing his eyes with a sigh he walked down to meet the chauffeur that took him home every day.

During the familiar ride through DC, Alfred took a moment to collect his thoughts. The questions rang through his head but the loudest one by far was why? Why had it been Arthur and not any of the pretty daughters of senators that his mother tried to set him up with all the time. Alfred's mind couldn't come up with a serious answer. Arthur wasn't even the hottest guy in school but he had an air about him, and when he smiled…

"Urgh!" Alfred said letting his head fall into his hands. There it goes again, damn it! His thoughts for the past week had been a one way train to Arthur central with a side stop at Angstville. There was no point in even trying to stop it anymore. Every time Alfred saw him, his feelings raged out of control.

"I wish I never had to see his face again," the American teen muttered darkly into the fabric of his school uniform.

He sighed as the car pulled to a stop; oddly no one opened the electronic gate for him. Glancing at his watch Alfred grew more suspicious, it was just about the same time that he got home any other day. _Maybe they went to get coffee or something_, he thought as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and hopped over the lower end of the decorative gate. Empty quiet filled the house as well as the yard, making the unsettled feeling in his stomach even stronger. "Mom? Dad?" Alfred called dropping his bag just inside the front door and walking through the house. Living room, bedrooms, kitchen, all empty of any signs of life, like something out of a horror movie. Allowing himself to panic, Alfred ran through the house to the one place he could count on never being empty, his Dad's office.

"Dad?" Alfred yelled throwing the door open. He only had a second to register his mother's broken voice shouting at him to run before the gunshot rang through the air and pressed at his ears in the silence that followed it. His brain numbly registered her brains and blood scattering the wall around the door and, in turn himself.

"Mom," he echoed, unable to look away from the stump of a neck that was now bleeding freely onto the Turkish carpets she handpicked during their last family vacation. Sensible brown hair, out of its uniform tight up-do was instead splayed out like a fan in the growing pool of blood surrounding the head. The force of the impact with the floor had freed one of the pearl pins she wore from her head and sent it rolling over the carpet to rest near Alfred's worn out sneakers. Dazed he bent down to pick it up, removing a small chunk of hair methodically from between the prongs.

Tearing his gaze away from the smeared surface iridescent surface, his eyes scraped across the room to look for his father finding him in his usual spot, strapped into his fancy puffed up leather chair.

Just in time look directly into his eyes before the flash of fire and following force called the curtain on the scene.

* * *

><p>Pain. Pain pain pain. Ringing in his ears. Pain and darkness. Boards shifted on top of him while something cutting into his side, pressing down on him and causing him to cry out in pain. In the distance sirens sounded, getting closer and closer but never arriving. It was too late anyway. Everyone was worth saving was already dead. Was that someone calling for a paramedic?<p>

* * *

><p>Darkness again, but this time no pain in his side. Nothing, just the numbness that tickled at his body. Where was he? Where was his-<p>

"Mom!" he screamed in terror, wrenching himself upright despite pain in his chest or the cloth that tucked him into the bed. His arms were held back by the machines and he struggled against the wires containing him. Alfred screeched again, disregarding the array of monitors going crazy with their mocking noises. People rushed into the room shouting orders for sedatives, holding Alfred down against the bed until the world of noise ebbed away into silence once more.

* * *

><p>The third time Alfred regained consciousness, he woke feeling oddly calm. It was still dark, but he could hear something that gave him a small bit of comfort.<p>

"Okay I understand, I'll tell him."

Him.

With that accent there was no mistaking it.

Why was he here? Alfred wasn't sure whether he should be happy or upset that Arthur was here. Putting his uncertainty on his list of things to be addressed later the American decided to stay put, waiting to see if something else would happen. He listened to the muffled footsteps of the nurse walk away, and the scraping of a chair as it was dragged over to the side of his bed.

He felt a gentle hand on his head, smoothing back his hair before he hear him speak. "Alfred you're going to be okay," there was a slightly tremble in the Brit's voice that betrayed his true thoughts on that matter, but still it provided some sense of comfort that Arthur would say that for him. Even though Arthur knew that Alfred had known him far to long to not be able to tell when he was lying.

Alfred put on a smile anyway, "Artie?"

"Arthur," the Brit replied automatically before sucking in a breath. Alfred's smile brightened, he couldn't be hurt too badly if Arthur still had the heart to correct him.

After a long moment of silence Alfred figured out that it was his turn to speak. "Everyone's dead?" he managed to ask with what he liked to think was an even voice. Yep, he was going to be calm and reasonable about this and then. Well he would handle it.

"I'm sorry Alfred, I'm so sorry. The police are looking into what happened. They want to talk to you about what you saw, but the Doctors are making them wait," Arthur rushed, his hand twitching slightly where it rested on Alfred's hair.

Alfred open his eyes to peek at Arthur's expression, only to be met with more frustrating darkness.

"Why is it dark in here?" Alfred asked annoyed, blinking and trying to get his eyes to adjust frustration growing as his vision didn't adjust after a few seconds. It wasn't even dark per say, it was just empty. No lights no colors, not even little lights from the machines he could hear beeping steadily beside him. He felt Arthur pull one of his hands away, but he didn't answer.

"Arthur?" the American asked, his voice rising in pitch out of panic.

"Alfred it isn't dark in here."

"Dude this isn't even funny. Turn on the lights."

"Alfred-"

"Turn on the lights! Arthur please turn on the lights!"

The pace of the monitors began to pick up speed.

Alfred felt something warm cover his chest, squeezing him lightly and for the most part avoiding the tender spots on his abdomen. Along his neck hair brush the skin under his chin and it occurred to him that Arthur must have been giving him a hug. Arthur. The same Arthur who absolutely abhorred intimate physical contact of any kind. Swallowing, Alfred slowly calmed back down, bringing down the monitors as well. Awkwardly, he tried to hold Arthur there with the one arm that wasn't immobilized in bandages.

"I can't see," Alfred whispered brokenly into the hair he knew would be sticking everywhere in a blonde mess.

He might have imagined it but Arthur hugged him tighter.


	2. Chapter 2

When the doctors were called back in, Arthur started to tell them how Alfred had handled what happened. Well he left off the part about the hug, but that wasn't really any of their concern was it? After visiting hours were over, the nurses had to practically drag him out of the room. It felt wrong to leave Alfred alone after something like this had happened. What if who ever was behind all of this came back to finish the job? But nonetheless he was ushered out of the room, leaving Alfred to sit alone in the dark for hours. Not that he could tell, save for the fact that the hospital was quieter at night.

Everything would be okay right? It had to be. Arthur hadn't gone into the condition of his house in his recap, but from what Al remembered from his first bout of consciousness after the blast it was safe to assume most of the house around the office was gone. Not to mention he would never feel safe there ever again. Where would he live? Panic started to settle into his thoughts again, reflected in the increasing rhythm from the machines alerting one of the nurses. Soothing medication flowed into his veins after that accompanied by soft words, sending Alfred into the dreamless sleep only chemicals could produce.

Another morning saw another visit from Arthur as soon as they opened the hospital doors to guests.

"Hey Arthur!" the American called with fake enthusiasm as the smell of fresh earl grey tea and cinnamon entered the room and pulled the chair next to the bed again.

"How did you-" Arthur asked pausing.

"Tea," the bandaged blond said simply. It was nice to know that some things would never change.

"Oh," Arthur said with a cough. It wasn't hard to imagine the embarrassed look on his face, Alfred had teased him about it so much the expression was ingrained in his mind forever.

"So what're you doing here?" Alfred asked.

"Well there has been some decisions made about what should happen to you after you're released, and the cops are determined to talk to you today," Arthur said quickly recovering from his embarrassment.

"When do I get to go home?" Alfred asked, legitimate excitement showing for the first time.

Arthur shuffled in his chair before responding with carefully picked words, "You know that it's not safe for you to go back there."

"But I don't-"

Arthur placed a finger over Alfred's mouth to quiet him, hoping Alfred would be with the arrangement that had been worked out.

"You're going to stay with me," Arthur finished with a sigh before removing the finger.

The noises of the room faded to a silence around Alfred leaving him alone with his thoughts to work this out in his head, he was going to live where? Oh no, this was not happening. He couldn't handle this much emotional upheaval in such a short amount of time. Alfred was unaware that he had started voicing his thoughts, much to Arthur's confusion.

"Oi! What is living with me not good enough? Would you rather be shipped off to some crazy extended family you don't even know? I've been your best friend for almost a decade, I know you better than they ever could!" Arthur said indignantly, standing up.

"No, I just-"

"What is so bad about the prospect of living with me?" Arthur asked- hurt evident in his voice.

"It's not like that, I-" Alfred stuttered. What could he possibly say to explain? That he was afraid of living with Arthur, of having the temptation that close. What if he said something, or did something to act on his feelings. No one could ever know, what about Dad's-

Dad's public image, the one that didn't have room for a boy that had feelings for another boy, not that Alfred would have ever mentioned it to his father. The issue was too sensitive. One remark or action could have resulted in another candidate being elected.

Shoes squeaked on title as Arthur spun and stalked out of the room, "I'm going to get more tea, try and finish your obviously complex internal monologue before I get back."

Alfred blinked, damn if Arthur wasn't perceptive, too perceptive if they were going to be living together. It was only going to be a matter of time. Someone was going to get hurt, and Alfred didn't need to see to know who it would be. Taking stock of his situation, he had no parents to go to, no home to retreat to, no sight to find someplace to stay on his own until he turned 18… And then there was the ten years of friendship he would ruin either way he chose.

There was not upside from here and there were no other options.

"Are you quite finished?" Arthur said from the doorway, startling Alfred.

"Dude I'm sorry, I don't even know what came over me," Alfred lied fidgeting with one of his bandages.

Arthur huffed and set something- most likely tea a cheep hospital cup of coffee- down and walked over to the bed, "Don't apologise, you've been through a lot. It was wrong of me to spring this on you. Are you sure you're okay with living with us? I mean you'll probably move into my room so I can g- ahem um," Arthur's thought spluttered away, how insensitive could he be? _So I can guide you? Good one there, too soon much?_

"Yeah," Alfred said lowering his head so that his hair would cover the blush that wasn't covered by his bandages. Well... on the up side at least he didn't have to worry about seeing Arthur naked or anything so there was that small boon.

"When do they let me go?" Alfred asked looking up.

The smell of earl grey got stronger as Arthur picked up his tea and took a sip, "Well your wounds aren't deep, if it weren't for the head injury you would have been in and out with stiches and some medicine for your lungs, but because of your sight... issues. They want to observe you for a tick to see what's causing the blindness but…"

"But what?"

"When I came in I heard them talking about how rare a case this is; something to do with a combination of physical and psychological factors, I don't know I didn't hear all of it," Arthur said hastily. He didn't want to get Alfred's hopes up. The possibility of regaining his sight was very low, that's how the world worked shit happened and then everyone had to make the best of it.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Arthur said with a sigh. It was heartbreaking really, to see the once energetic teen confined to a bed, bandages wrapped around his blond head, eyes empty- not just of sight. How could this have happened? Alfred was one of the kindest people you could have as a friend. Hadn't there been security measures in place to prevent something like this from happening? Arthur watched as the blonde slid back against the pillow, eyes wide and facing the ceiling, looking so exposed without that damned smile._ That smile would never reach those eyes again_, shoving that thought away, Arthur stood up and walked to the door to find a doctor. It didn't take long catch one in the hall that knew the situation.

"Well they say you can be released tomorrow, but ah-" Arthur said walking back rubbing the back of his head.

"Really?" Alfred said sitting straighter with excitement.

"However, you'll probably be confined to a wheelchair for the actual trip home to prevent you from walking through a window or something," Arthur said carefully placing his hands on Alfred's uninjured arm. Noticing how the other flinched away from the contact.

"I'm Alfred F. Jones, I don't need no damn wheelchair," Alfred said with what could be compared to a pout, not that he would admit it.

"Of course you don't," Arthur said with a tired sigh, not bothering with the American's… grammar, for lack of a better word.

They stayed like that for a while, until Alfred grew restless.

"Hey Artie."

"Hmmmm?" he asked.

"Can you turn on some cartoons? I just. I want to hear something other than the machines," the American said quietly.

"Sure," he replied, picking up the remote from the counter and flipping channels til he found one playing Tom and Jerry.

"Thanks," Alfred said with a smile. It was somewhat comforting, he could tell exactly what was going by the way every sound effect correlated exactly to an action he had seen over and over again. The fall of an anvil, the hiss of lit dynamite, frying pans, it was a drop of normality in this sea of fucked up circumstances.

Arthur regarded Alfred's grin quizzically for a moment before, turning his attention to the TV, Alfred's breathing echoed around the room in time against the beeping of the machines. It was surreal, how all of this had come about. If only the stupid idiot had not have run off immediately after school, then maybe Alfred would have arrived after the bomb had gone off. If only Alfred has stopped and talked with him about what had been bothering him. Then again they might have waited anyway, who knew what the fucked up bastards plan had been.

"Hey, Alf-" Arthur began, stopping when he looked down and noticed the way Alfred's head was tilted to the side and his even breaths puffed out against the fabric of the pillowcase. He waved a hand in front of Alfred's eyes to check if he was really asleep and then, realizing how stupid that was, let it fall and tuck Alfred's hair behind his ear.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," Arthur said, his own head resting on the rail of the hospital bed.

* * *

><p>"Sir?" Someone asked shaking Arthur on the shoulder.<p>

"What?" Arthur asked groggily, berating himself for falling asleep when he should have been watching over Alfred.

"Visiting hours aren't until 10 am, no one must have noticed you were here," the nurse said while she checked the machines.

"What time is it?" Alfred asked, noticing that the cartoons were now about some sort of…. sentient fast food. How does that even become an idea? Much less a show? What the fuck.

"I'd say about 2am, the nurse on the evening shift of nurses must have left you alone," she replied writing something down.

"Oh," Arthur said with a frown, rubbing the side of his face where the rail had left deep indents in his skin.

"Normally I would make you leave, but-" she gestured to Arthur's other hand, which was currently imprisoned as a sort of makeshift teddy bear by Alfred's arms, "-it's best not to wake him. Last time he was woken up it took 4 doctors to sedate him, but only when you aren't here."

Arthur looked away, trying not to blush, how do you begin to respond to something like that?

"He's going to need someone to rely on," she continued pulling over another chair, "Your parents were already told about this when they agreed to take temporary custody, but he's going to need someone who will stand by his side and help him adjust."

"I know," Arthur said looking back from his hand.

"It's a big responsibility, and you have to think about what you will do when he turns 18, when there's no longer a legal obligation to look after him," she reminded.

Lips pursed, Arthur contemplated what this could mean. Surely, his parents would let Alfred stay after he was a legal adult, at least until he could manage on his own…

"I understand…." He whispered, "I would do anything to help him."

The nurse raised an eyebrow and walked out of the room, taking the extra chair back over to the door with her.

The English teen's head fell back on the rail, stretching his other arm over Alfred protectively. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but Arthur eventually fell into a more restful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Art! Art wake up your parents are here!" Alfred whispered, nudging the side of Arthur's face. The Brit's sleep mused head was resting on the American's chest and Alfred took the time to let his hand wandered around to feel the back of the blonde's head, making sure it was whole. He knew it was stupid, but he kept expecting the worst whenever he woke up. Another person to be dead, or for the murders to come back for him.

"Oh very good Alfred! How'd you know we were here?" The classic accent of Arthur's mum drifted through the room as Arthur's head shot up.

"The nurse came in and told me," Alfred admitted with a laugh as Arthur shifted in his seat, attempting to smooth out his clothes and bring his blush under control.

A nurse cleared her throat, "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

The dance of people involved in getting Alfred into the wheelchair relied on Arthur, who was the only person that could convince the stubborn American to do anything, and the only person that Alfred trusted.

Alfred took it all surprisingly in stride, tilting his head back to talk to Arthur as he was pushed around the halls, through the elevator, and out into the open sunlight outside the hospital.

"And what do you think you're doing?" Arthur asked tartly as Alfred fumbled in the wheelchair and stood up.

"Arthur, please," he pouted facing a little to the left of Arthur, "Don't make me do this it's embarrassing. I can walk, really I can. It's just some bruises and a few scrapes I'm fine."

"Oh come here before you get hit by a car," Arthur said taking his stupid best friends hand and leading him across the parking lot. If Alfred was going to be difficult then so be it. His Mum and Dad were lagging behind them, but Arthur had no trouble locating and unlocking the family's car with his key, "Here we are."

"I knew that," Alfred said as he felt for the door handle and pulled it open.

"Alfred stop!" the other shouted, throwing his arm out in front of Alfred's chest and barely stopping Alfred from smashing his face into the top of the door opening.

"The roof is here okay?" he continued, drawing a line in the air from the top of the car to Alfred's chest.

"Oh," the other teen mumbled, cheeks flushing as he duck his head down and got into the car without further incident.

Arthur shut the door for him and walked around to the other side of the car and got in, trying to look at anywhere but Alfred as his parents got in the front and started driving away. Alfred held his injured arm against his chest, hyperaware of Arthur's thigh pressed against his. Arthur placed his hand on the other's knee, causing Al to jump before placing his own hand over it. _I'm fine,_ he mouthed at Arthur, really. He was fine. Arthur shouldn't bother worrying.

Arthur felt his own face heat up in turn. _It's nothing,_ he told himself,_ Al just needs a little comfort. It's not a big deal._

He couldn't shake the feeling that it was something a little more than that.

Throughout the drive home, Arthur stayed quiet. Most of the conversation that went on was between his parents and occasionally Alfred.

"Say there, why don't you go ahead and show Alfred where he'll be staying," Arthur's dad said as they walked into the echoing foyer of Arthur's house.

Alfred felt a warm hand around his again, gently tugging him forward. "Come on, and mind the stairs," Arthur mumbled softly. Alfred rolled his eyes, "I've been to your house before." And with that remark he took the stairs two at a time, leaving Arthur behind.

"I know, but I just- Oi! Take it slower!" Arthur yelled as Alfred bolted up the right branch of the stairs that led to wing of the house with Arthur's room. Arthur ran to catch up, knocking into a stationary Alfred a few feet from the top of the stairs. Alfred let out a squeak, twisting and trying to cover the back of his head with his arms, bracing for the impact with the marble steps.

Instead of marble, he felt two warm arms holding him about a foot away from the stairs. He could feel Arthur's rapid breath on his cheek, as they both froze, too stunned by what had almost happened to move for a for a few moments. _Just a few inches,_ Alfred's mind echoed, _just move your head a few inches. HE'S RIGHT THERE._

Arthur blinked and let out a shaky breath before returning Alfred upright, "Ah, Sorry about that," he mumbled bright red, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

"Stop that! It was my fault, you told me not to and I still did it," Alfred sighed.

They stood in the silent hallway as for a short time, neither of them knowing what to do and every passing minute making the situation worse.

"So," Arthur supplied.

"Where's your room again?" Alfred blurted out.

"Okay. There are two doors on the right side of the hall, our bedroom is the first door. The door next to that is the- well my, although I guess it's our study now. And on the left side, there's the storage room, the guest room which can be yours if you want, and the access room to the attic," the Brit said pulling Alfred to the first door on the right, "you'll be staying in my room for now."

After Arthur explained the layout inside the room and the entrance to their shared bathroom before, Alfred plopped down on his bed, which was underneath the window crammed under the window where Arthur's old desk had been. Not that it mattered much, but Alfred took comfort that could feel the late Autumn sunlight on his face telling him that the curtains were open. It warmed his face and helped him to relax.

He sat back up and turned his head over to where Arthur's bed was against the adjacent wall, it wasn't very far...

"Boys, time for supper," Arthur's mother called from the door. Alfred nodded and jumped to his feet, feeling dizzy but walking forward with purpose, walking right into the side of the open doorway.

"So close," he said regretfully, brushing it off. It was going to be harder to adjust than he first thought thought but he could do it.

"Arthur?" he asked spinning around wildly. He hadn't noticed earlier, but the entire house smelled of earl grey tea, and Arthur's room spelled exactly like Arthur. It was impossible to find him in the darkness.

"I'm right here," Arthur said from the top of the stairs.

"Oh. I thought you were still in the room…" Al said with a frown. He should have at least heard him walking past, the floor in the hall was marble after all.

"Are you coming or not?"

* * *

><p>Dinner was simple, much like the room it was held in. Alfred made a particular effort to remember where this room was. No way in hell was he about to get lost and miss out on food. Later, he would have to get Arthur to tell him where the kitchen was… or maybe asking Mrs. Kirkland would yield better results.<p>

Well dinner- no, Supper- as Arthur insisted, was going well so far. He didn't have trouble finding a way to get the food to his mouth without smearing it all over his face (which only happened once). Until of course Alfred ruined it by asking what day it was.

"Sunday? But-" Alfred panicked, "How much school have I missed?" It was Mr. Kirkland that finally broke the nervous tension.

"About school, Alfred. You'll probably have to be pulled from most if not all of your classes until we figure out a way to accommodate for you," he paused with a hum, "As they say these days, maybe there's an app for that."

Alfred's eyes lowered to where he knew the table should be. Until now it hadn't hit him how different his life was going to be than he had originally planned. So many things that he couldn't do now, like go see a movie, or play video games. No more sports, he would definitely have to resign from the football team, maybe even drop out of school completely. It would be for the best... but it still made his heart hurt. So many of the things that Alfred had worked to accomplish in his life… Arthur's knee found his under the table, giving it a small nudge. That too was gone. All the shared looks and subtle gestures that Arthur and he had come up with and used all the time in class to talk to each other without being caught were gone, and that was worse than anything else he had lost. He went back to picking around his plate carefully until his fork found food. "I guess I'll have to learn brail now or something, huh?" he asked without looking back to Arthur.

There was silence at the table, before Arthur's mother spoke up, "I think that would be a wonderful idea. We'll see about ordering you some books and hiring a teacher."

"Say, Alfred, I don't suppose you play?" Arthur's father asked shifting the topic.

"Play what?" Alfred asked automatically, through a mouth full of broccoli he had been tricked into putting on his plate.

"An instrument."

"Oh, well I used to play guitar, I did play the violin in middle school but I haven't touched one in years, and uh..." Alfred trailed off. He absolutely refused to say what his mother made him play when he was little. It was beyond embarrassing and borderline ridiculous.

"Ah- a strings man, always was more of a woodwind fan, but respect all the same. We have a music room on the first floor, under Arthur's room, but I don't think there's a guitar, might be a violin in there though," Arthur's mum said contemplating, and then it dawned on Alfred where they were going with this conversation. They were trying to figure out things he could still do blind.

"Thanks Mrs. Kirkland," Alfred said busying himself with a glass of water.

"Oh don't be silly dear, you can call me Mary and don't you be afraid to call Winston by his name either," Mrs. Kirkland said with a laugh. Alfred hid his laugh by coughing into his arm, saving his remarks for later when he could talk to Arthur alone.

By the time dinner was over, Alfred was relieved. He wasn't sure how the two older Kirklands would take to having a more... permanent house guest. Even then it was no telling how Arthur's older brothers would be like if they came to visit but fortunately he didn't have to deal with that right now.

"Your father's name is Winston," Alfred said doubling over when they got back to Arthur's room.

"What of it," the Brit replied closing the door behind him.

"You know, Winston Churchill, you're British, your dad's name is Winston," Alfred said struggling to stand.

"It's not a bad name!" replied Arthur defensively.

Oh._ Oh_. "No way," Alfred said with a shit eating grin, "Don't tell me you were supposed to be Winston Kirkland Junior."

"Mum said he couldn't," Arthur muttered.

"I can't," Alfred wheezed. Maybe it was the pain meds, but it was just hilarious. Arthur reached over and grabbed a pillow to swat the blind boy over the head with.

"Hey, no fair! I can't even find a pillow! I'm injured that was a foul!" Alfred said holding his arms up to block the constant barrage, still laughing. He walked over to where Arthur's bed was, and grabbed the first fluffy thing he found and flung it at the Brit. Ripping the quilt off the bed, he got tangled in the mass of blankets along with his intended target.

"Oi!" Arthur shouted, muffled through the fabric as he pulled on the blanket, bringing the American to the floor with him in the mass of blankets as well.

They stayed on the floor, a laughing mess, stopping as they each realised what sort of position they were in. Arthur fought the urge to pull Alfred closer and keep him there; the idiotic teen was actually smiling and it made his heart hurt. A true smile that even reached his sightless eyes. Alfred felt a blush rise to his cheeks and hoped that Arthur would think it was just from running around the room.

"How the hell did you manage this?" Arthur asked from underneath him.

"I was trying to find a pillow hit you with..." Alfred said trying to ignore the way his body loved being so close to Arthur. He could feel the sharp edge of Arthur's hips through every layer of clothing between them.

"Do not believe for a moment that this means you win," Arthur said grabbing Alfred's shoulders and flipping their positions, so that he was positioned over Alfred's hips, keeping him pinned to the floor. Alfred squeaked, he really hoped that it was too dark for the English teen to see his face under the blankets. He was beginning to have a problem that, given their current positions, would be impossible for the other to miss.

The room went quiet, only breathing broke the silence. Tension was burning between them, Alfred could almost see it. It was sending sparks through his body everywhere they touched. Under the warm blanket it was almost like another world. Where it wouldn't be such a bad thing for him to reach up and kiss his best friend. Where it might even be okay.

Alfred's hand started to reach up for Arthur's neck, feeling the other lean away from his touch and in turn, closer to his face. "I- I," Alfred stuttered, breaking the spell. _Fuck why did I interrupt that. No. Why why why why? _He pleaded internally.

Arthur coughed and rolled off the American, wasting no time in putting the space of the entire room between them. He needed away from Alfred, to clear his head. He needed to think about what had just happened, or what had almost happened. What was happening?

"I'm going to ah-.. yeah shower, right," Alfred said scrambling to his feet and tripping across the room.

When leaving the room, Alfred heard Arthur start to swear.

Fumbling through the shower, Alfred got shampoo in his eyes, and slipped at least twice, but emerged clean without any further injures as far as he could out onto the bathroom tile, his hands grazed the wall looking for a towel rack.

"Arthur," he asked fumbling through the bathroom, finding a small towel, but it almost didn't go all the way around his waist.

"Arthur!" Alfred repeated walking out of the bathroom. There was no answer to his call, just the sound of the TV on in the background.

Alfred pondered over whether or not the other was upset about what had happened earlier as his fumbling hands knocked his clock off the side table looking for his bed where he had left his suitcase earlier. Arthur meanwhile had gone to the guest bathroom to take his own shower, hoping to beat the the other blonde out. He opened the door to his room without knocking. There was no way that Alfred was done with his shower... He stood in the hallway gaping at the American, who was bent over to pick up the electronic dialog clock, his flushed pink ass in the air, the towel doing nothing to cover it. Slamming the door behind him, Arthur could only gape as the American jumped and fell face forward into his bed.

"ARTHUR WHAT THE HELL MAN," he shouted grabbing a pillow to hide his junk.

"WELL I DIDN'T THINK YOU WERE OUT OF THE SHOWER YET. WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WEARING?" Arthur yelled back ignoring the red that stained his face.

"YOU DID'T SHOW ME WHERE THE FUCKING TOWELS WERE MORON," Alfred said burying his face in the pillow to hide his embarrassment.

"THEY WERE ON THE SHELF, I THOUGH YOU WOULD SEE TH-" Arthur's words died in his throat. Alfred's face shot up from the pillow, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes while he held back a sob. Arthur didn't think as he crossed the distance of the room and threw his arms around the American, holding his head to his chest as the other broke down. Wetness seeped into Arthur's pajama shirt, whether from tears or Alfred's still wet hair he didn't know. Frankly, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Arthur repeated smoothing Alfred's hair. Tenderly, Alfred reached his arm around Arthur and returned the hold. "I forgot, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you and I'm sorry that I can't fix it," Arthur kept talking. He couldn't get rid of the guilt that was churning in his stomach. He was supposed to be watching out for Alfred. Not making him feel worse about the situation.

Silence filled the room after a while, Arthur was still cradling the other to his chest, not ready to let go.

"I'm going to get dressed," Alfred sniffed working his way out of Arthur's hold, trying to recover his calm he held onto so well since waking up in the hospital.

Arthur just nodded and slid off Alfred's bed and walked to his own keeping his eyes to himself and sliding back the covers before turning off the light. It wouldn't affect Alfred getting ready for bed and the light was provoking the baby headache Arthur felt behind his temples.

"Goodnight Alfred," Arthur said rolling over.

"Yeah."

Sleep was not soon in coming for either friend, Alfred fell asleep first due to his medication and overall exhaustion. But his steady breathing didn't help Arthur, who was doing his best to get the teen off his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes he would see flashes of what happened when he opened the door. Alfred's butt and the blush on his face… "Fuck," Arthur sighed rolling over to escape his guilt. What kind of horrible person was he? Alfred was hurting and scared and here he was thinking about his ass.

He was almost asleep when a scream jolted him back to reality. Tumbling out of bed, Arthur rushed to his side of the twisting teen, "Alfred. ALFRED. Wake up it's a nightmare you're okay! You're safe." Eye's jolting open in terror Alfred froze, "Arthur?" he asked in a small voice.

"I'm here," he answered finding Alfred's hand in the blankets and giving it a squeeze.

"It was terrible," he whispered sitting up.

"I know."

"I couldn't stop it."

"I know Al," Arthur soothed.

"Arthur… Can I- can I sleep in your bed?" Alfred asked, his hands reaching out to find Arthur's face, making sure it was really there. That this wasn't just another dream.

"Sure," Arthur said standing back up and taking one of Alfred's hands away from his face to lead him over to his bed gently. He stopped and grabbed a pillow off Alfred's bed before using it to get Alfred settled on the right side of his bed.

"Okay?" he asked turning to leave and get a drink of water, maybe some aspirin when Alfred's hand closed on his wrist. "No! I mean… Stay with me please. I can't sleep alone."

Arthur almost considered refusing him, but his resolve melted away when he looked at Alfred. His eyes were wide open and were staring off in the wrong direction a frown fixed on his face. "Okay," Arthur sighed climbing over Alfred and joining him under the covers. He had expected Alfred to let go of his hand, but the other boy curled up around it and scooted into the crook of the Brit's arms. "Goodnight," Alfred whispered. Arthur didn't pull away or reply. He only held the other closer to his chest.


End file.
